


In the Gallery

by lost_spook



Category: The Quiet Gentleman - Georgette Heyer, These Old Shades - Georgette Heyer
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Ghosts, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8625733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: A young Theodore Frant has a strange conversation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written from the Genremixer prompt: Theo Frant/Justin Alastair & fluff (for Ylla, who said it was the most mind-boggling, because it's hard to turn down a challenge like that).

The rest of the small group of visitors had moved on down the gallery with the housekeeper who was conducting the tour around Avon Court, ancestral home of the Alastair family. Fourteen year old Theodore Frant, however, paused to look away from the pictures at some of the panelling opposite, comparing it unfavourably with similar work at Stanyon.

“If you are looking for a secret door,” said a languid voice from behind him, “I’m afraid you will be disappointed. Had there been one, it would have been discovered long since, I assure you.”

Theodore gave a guilty start and turned around to see a tall man, dressed in what seemed even to him to be an extremely outmoded and excessively elaborate style.

“Your fellows seem about to desert you,” the man observed. “You had probably best join them. I believe there to be further oak panelling in the great hall, so you should find something of interest. I confess it should bore me to stare at bricks and mortar or wood panelling, no matter how fine, but each to their own amusements.”

Theodore muttered a hasty and embarrassed, “Sir,” and moved to hurry after the rest.

“Oh, but one thing more,” said the man, calling him back. He gestured to his upper sleeve and gave a very slight wince. “You have some dust or, no, fluff, perhaps, here.”

Theodore looked down and brushed away the offending piece of wool that had somehow attached itself to his coat, but when he looked up again, the man seemed to have vanished, and he was left facing one of the portraits instead. Justin Alastair, the notorious ‘Satanas’, the guide had said. It also looked uncannily like the man who had just now engaged him in conversation.

Theodore didn’t merely hasten to rejoin the party; he raced down the long gallery, causing everyone to stare, and earning himself a reprimand from the housekeeper. He remembered, afterwards, that the housekeeper had also said that the current Duke of Avon was considered to be very like his late grandfather. That, Theo decided, must be the explanation – or at least, the only one he was willing to entertain.


End file.
